


Smell of Smoke

by Impala_Cherry_Trickster



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Badass, Canon Era, Character Death, Dark Merlin (Merlin), Gen, Good Morgana (Merlin), Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Hurt No Comfort, Protective Arthur, Protective Knights (Merlin), pyre, sorry about this guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:47:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24569488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Cherry_Trickster/pseuds/Impala_Cherry_Trickster
Summary: Merlin had spent his life running from death, but it caught up so quickly.
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 212





	1. Death

The Iron bit into his skin, and Merlin rose his head to look to his friends. They were screaming for him, looked terrified, skin red where they had been flushed from anger. Morgana, Goddess bless her, trying to break free from her own iron cuffs to try and reach him. Arthur, pleading with his captor. Gwaine, dark fury lacing his expression, ready to kill anyone that hurt him. The Knights that had become his friends, Leon’s wide eyes, Elyan’s tight snarl of fury, Percival’s terror. Lancelot’s fear, the way he tried to assure Merlin they’d get him out of this situation.

As a sorcerer, he’d always know his life was risky. He’d expected death every time he performed a spell, and here he was. It felt anti-climactic, a bit like he’d been worrying over this thing only for it to sneak up so quickly. Out of the blue, people he tried to fight, yet they took away his best weapon.

He looked across to where Gaius was trapped, chained down, but at least they had considered him useful. A physician could be a great tool, and so he would live, even if Merlin did not. The Warlock smiled warmly, tried to convey how much he was thankful for him. He sent a prayer to Kilgharrah, but the Dragon had admitted he was going away to die, and that Aithusa would stay with him till that moment had come.

It was his turn, now. The rope itched, and Merlin let his head hit the post behind, stared out across the clearing. It was a bright day, the sun was shining down and warming up the lands of Albion, almost as if was any other day. A few clouds splattered across the sky, which Merlin admired as heard them drone on.

‘Emrys, your life is an offering for the end of Magic!’ He hated these people, they didn’t understand that Magic would always find a way to come back. That she was angry, that they had dared to touch those that believed in the Old Religion. Merlin chuckled, thought about what the Goddess might say if she could see this mess now.

He caught sight of the torch, took a deep breath to steady his nerves. He smelt the smoke as the wood caught, was glad that he was looking straight ahead. His hands were behind his back, and he linked his fingers together. Fear began to trickle in, and Merlin had to seek out a comforting gaze, found Arthur staring at him.

The King had gone white, and Merlin found that quite funny. The pain was beginning to set in, his body warning him that he was about to be in agony. The King had become everything Merlin hoped, and he finally took one last look, before he had to drag his eyes away.

The first scream was out of shock for the fire at his ankles, for the way it was coming up his body. He screamed until his throat ached, until it felt like his entire body might burst. His lungs could breathe nothing but smoke, his skin felt like it was melting from his body, and Merlin howled. The flames were surrounding him now, and he realised his last moments wouldn’t be peaceful, they’d be filled with agony.

He screwed his eyes shut, was surprised to find a woman in his imagination, a bright smile on her face. She offered out her hand, warmth radiating off her, and Merlin stumbled vaguely in her direction.

_Just let go, Emrys. They’ll be fine without you._

He didn’t want to leave them, he wanted to live. He wanted to breathe the fresh air, to laugh and joke amongst the group. To tease them, to train Morgana to be the best she could be. Wanted to grow old with them, to sit by Gaius’s side as he slipped away in his sleep, to watch Arthur age. To see the first flecks of grey in his hair, to watch that handsome face begin to wrinkle, to watch him age with the same grace that he ruled with.

_I don’t want to leave them!_

Why did the agony stretch out, why did he have to feel everything? Every flame, the Pyre roaring with flames, and Merlin stuck on it.

_You don’t have a choice._

He wished they knew how much he loved them. He wanted to say it, to tell them that he would never stop loving them, but his lungs wouldn’t work. The air was burning, his throat was scolding, and he could do nothing but scream. Undignified, not the end he thought he’d have.

_I’m so sorry, Arthur._


	2. Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana's laughing

Morgana was sure she must have screamed. Watched as Merlin smiled to her, tried to comfort her even as the man approached with the torch. She turned to her brother, watched Arthur’s face go very pale as the flame lit.

No. No, she couldn’t watch this, stared in horror as the fire crept up higher and higher. Then the scream, Merlin looking to the sky and the sound breaking from his lips was something unnatural. Feral, it spoke of excruciating pain, and Morgana thought back to all of her worst nightmares, to every moment she dreamed of the Pyre.

It had never been Merlin, burning. His skin catching fire, his body disappearing beneath the flames, agony beyond belief. The smoke would be burning, his body was charring black, and Morgana watched as the bright sky began to cloud over.

Then she heard the snap, heard crossbows be raised and swords be drawn, and Merlin’s eyes opened. Through the flames she saw gold, as bright as the fire that burnt through him, and she watched as a figure stepped out from the inferno.

That wasn’t Merlin, the figure was melted and charred, nothing more than a burnt body. Yet his eyes were open, and he was looking right at her, then slowly to the darkening sky.

‘Impossible.’ Said the one that had burnt him, and Morgana felt the laughter break free before she could stop it. Laughed, because it was funny, and heads looked between her and the dead-man walking.

‘You just killed Magic’s CHILD! You expect mercy?’ Merlin’s eyes stayed golden, his head cocked in her direction, and that wasn’t Merlin. That was something using his burnt form, the pyre still roaring behind him, his clothes melted to his form.

‘You’re all going to die.’ She whispered, and felt no sorrow as she spoke.

**

Merlin was aware of the pain, then the sweet release of his Magic, of the lady that he had seen shoving him forwards gently.

_You burn so bright, Emrys. Show them._

His head was cocked at the woman taunting them, at the creature of Magic that understood.

_Burn them to the ground, my child._

His hand snapped out, but it wasn’t really his anymore. It was black, a charcoal colour with a texture of lumps and bubbles, a grotesque image that he stared at as he clenched his fingers.

The man that had condemned him was forced forwards, clutched at his neck while his toes dragged through the ground, pulled by an unseen force. It was his Magic, it was everything around him, and Merlin kept his fist up as he studied him.

How many of his kind had this man killed? His people, those of the Old Religion, those that he was born to teach. To guide, to help them prosper, and this man thought he could kill him. Had taken the King of Camelot and tried to prove that Emrys had to die.

‘Please, oh Gods please, mercy! Mercy, mercy my Lord, please!’ For a human that had made so many suffer, he was not very brave. Nobody moved, nobody dared to fire a weapon, and Merlin hesitated.

_They killed your kind. Forced you to burn. Now show them your rage._

He gripped the man in one smooth movement, turned back to the fire and shoved him down into the embers. The scream was ear-splitting, and people were shouting, telling him if he did not stop they would kill him. Merlin did not bother listening to such idiotic threats, watched the man under him thrash until the fire engulfed his body, and he died.

The flames didn’t hurt him anymore, he rose back up and stepped away from the burning body, looked around the clearing.

‘He’s a monster!’

‘SHOOT HIM!’

‘Take the shot!’

He let the Magic take over, watched as it began to change him. His skin began to feel alive, he let his eyes flicker shut, the warmth spreading over his body.

_From the ashes,_

He stretched his hands out, let his fingers spread, tipped his head to the sky and gasped as air rushed into his lungs.

_Rises a Phoenix._

When he looked forwards this time, it was to his own skin, the milky pale that he’d been expecting. His body was wrapped in silks and clothes of finery, presumably that which Magic had deemed acceptable for her son, and there was a slight pressure on his head. A crown, he laughed, looked to the creatures that had dared to kill him.

‘I give you warning, three seconds to run.’ Not quite his voice, but it was close, and Merlin drew his lips back in a smirk.

‘One.’

‘Shoot him!’ The crossbow fired, and Merlin snatched the bolt from the sky, snapped it and dropped it to the ground. It changed on contact, bloomed into a bright flower, and Merlin figured it would be a meadow by the time he was done.

‘Two.’ They fired in unison, splitting the air, and Merlin let his eyes shut. They halted at his command, the air obeying him just as the earth did, and the Warlock brushed them aside with a flick of his hand.

‘Shame. I might have given you the third count.’ When his fist clenched this time, it was to agony. To the sound of screaming, as those who purged Magic from the land died, as he stole back the lifeforce that the Old Religion had asked for. He wasn’t sure what the spell was, cared not about how they died, only knew that balance had to be restored. It was a big task, bringing him back from his burning end, yet he would make it right.

‘Lady Morgana, High Priestess of the Old Religion, you may rise.’ The iron snapped from her skin, and she rose from her chains with the grace of a Queen. She moved towards him, barefooted like she had been when she was snatched, and Merlin watched as she stepped over a fallen body to reach him.

‘My King.’ She bowed, rose up smoothly, and Merlin gestured to those that were still trying to escape.

‘Magic requests them dead, to restore the balance.’ He watched her eyes flick golden, knew that she would not let him down. He settled back as she stalked after those that were left, stepping through the flowers that burst from the earth.

When the last one fell, Merlin bent over and gasped, felt the energy drain from him as quickly as it had entered. His Magic dived deep, wrapping back around to keep him safe, and Morgana came to his side.

‘Is that you in there, now?’

‘Morgana.’ He breathed out, and she laughed in happiness, tears pricking at her eyes.

‘Welcome back, Merlin.’


End file.
